NonFictional
by Ankaris123
Summary: One-shot. AU. Kantarou is a third year university student of Literature. Youko is a waitress with a debt to pay. But what does that make Haruka? A What If fic.


Title: Non-Fictional

Authoress: Ankaris123

Start Date: December 23, 2008

End Date: December 23, 2008

Summary: **One-shot. ****AU.** (Alternate Universe) Kantarou is a third year university student of Literature. Youko is a waitress with a debt to pay. But what does that make Haruka? A What If fic.

Warning: Possible _OOC_ness. Chock full of errors, spelling, grammar, or otherwise.

_A/Ns_: As it is stated in the summary, this is a what if fic, written purely to explore possibilities and to satiate this authoress's persistent imagination (that has a mind of its own). Hope you enjoy.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_With slow, deliberate movement, Haruka turned on the spot to the person who called out to him. Even as he did so, rain fell from the heavens, drenching them to the bone. The clear plastic umbrella laid forgotten at the-_

"Kan-chan!"

Kantarou snapped out of his trance and shoved the novel under his work desk. He bit back a curse as he fumbled with his fountain pen which he had carelessly left on the desk. A navy blue ink splotch had formed on the middle of his mid term paper, bleeding into the pages underneath.

"What, what, what? Can't you see I'm busy, Youko-chan? I'm a University student. I need peace and quiet to think! I can't do it with you shrieking every five minutes!" he rambled, rescuing the clean pages underneath. It was already too late to save most of it. Kantarou sighed heavily at the damage and began to rifle through his drawers for blank sheets of paper.

"Don't give me that smack, Kan-chan! I know you've been reading that trashy romance novel again instead of working," Youko chided, shoving the vacuum cleaner under the chair he sat in, causing him to retract his feet immediately. "I wish you'd take your work more seriously. If you don't get that done, you'll fail Reiko-sensei's class for sure! And I could care less about your University student status."

"At least I'm receiving higher education, not puttering around a café for minimum wage!" the silver-headed man retorted indignantly, scribbling nonsense over a fresh page.

Youko paused in silence. The only noise in the room was the thrum of the unmoving vacuum against the worn blue carpet.

"I'm sorry, Youko-chan. I didn't mean-"

"What are you worrying about that for? It's this minimum wage income that's putting food on the table. That says way more than a bunch of fantasies on paper," she snorted. She resumed her vacuuming although her movements were vicious and jerky.

Kantarou set his pen back into its holder. He really shouldn't have said that.

Youko had always been sensitive about her education seeing as she didn't attend school past the sixth grade. Granted she is not stupid and she didn't drop out because of her grades but because of her family situation that had fallen into turmoil. It was a touchy subject and even Kantarou didn't know all the details.

Watching the brunette humming whimsical tunes heard off of televised ads as she performed her chores brought a smile to Kantarou's lips.

She was so different to the girl Kantarou had literally picked off the dreary streets of shady downtown two years before. Hurtling down the street to catch the bus he noticed her at the entrance of an alleyway, bundled up in dirty brown rags that barely resembled a jacket. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen that afternoon and she was without shoes, feet caked with dry mud and her exposed skin pale from the cold. On a whim, he had brought her home, albeit to the chagrin of his roommate Ryokan Hasumi (though he was due to move out as he was two years his senior). When Youko, as that the only information she would part with about her identity, asked why he had taken her in, he had answered:

"You remind me of a character in a story I wrote."

And he left it at that.

Since then Youko worked to repay him by supporting his feeble excuse of an income which came mainly in the form of prize money from the occasional writing contests. As Youko had said in response, it was a miracle he had lived so long on such an unstable source of cash.

"_Kan-chan_!"

"Huh, what?" he said, snapping out of his reverie and looked up to find a pair of heated, azure eyes boring down at him.

"Why aren't you writing?! Don't sit around with that glazed look on your face! You still have that short story entry to write, don't you?"

"Gah! I forgot!" And he genuinely had. Reiko would murder him eighty-seven ways if he missed the deadline after he boasted so much about how he was sure to win first prize. He stood up to retrieve his knapsack sitting in a heap of abandoned coats by the entrance. His forgotten novel dropped from his lap onto the floor.

Before he realized what had happened, Youko had swiped up the book from where it had fallen to the floor.

"Ah! Give that back!"

Youko danced out of his reach as he stumbled over his own furniture in attempts to reclaim it.

"Not until you finish writing! I'm taking this to work with me so don't even think of breaking into my room again!"

With that she stuffed the paperback into the pocket of her jacket hanging on a wooden peg over the shoe cabinet, reaching for her waist apron next to it. She tapped on her shiny black shoes and pulled on the coat.

"You better have both of them done when I get home or no leftovers for you!"

"That's cruel, Youko-chan!"

"Well, you know what they say about starving writers and all that. Anyways I have to go. I'll see you tonight! Call the restaurant if anything comes up and _only_ for emergencies, not for slacking off," she yelled, emphasizing the word only before shutting the door behind her.

"That's starving artists! Not writers!" he yelled back before slumping onto the ground. "What a demon she is."

He crawled lazily towards his bag and pulled out another novel bearing the same title. The pages were worn from use. Sighing wistfully, Kantarou rolled over onto his back and flipped to the page where he left off. He closed his red eyes wearily.

Shoulder length, raven black hair so dark it was nearly indigo. Piercing black eyes and a handsome chiseled face. Stately black attire and an aura that drew others in like bees to honey.

He sighed again, pressing the open book to his face, breathing in the scent of aging paper.

"Why can't Haruka be real? Why did you have to make him so real, Sugino-sensei?"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Achoo!"

"Can you cover your mouth when you do that? I don't want any of your bacteria on me."

Disregarding the tone of voice used against him, Sugino wiped his nose with a monogrammed handkerchief produced from his pocket. He folded it neatly and replaced it.

"Someone must be talking about me."

"If that is so, you'd be suffering from sneezing fits for the rest of your prime due to your crazed female fans and the wonder that is marriage," his companion stated, stirring his rapidly cooling coffee absentmindedly.

"Please, while having fans is, to a certain extent, flattering," Sugino ignored the disbelieving snort here, "there is nothing more I need in this world as long as I have Muu-chan."

Hearing her name, Muu looked up from her plate of spaghetti and cocked her head at her master.

"Muu?"

"Oh, Muu-chan! You're so cute! I wish you were human so I could marry you! No wait! I'll just petition to legalize our marriage! Yes! Marry me, Muu-chan!" Sugino gushed, hugging the strange animal to his designer threads. Muu blinked and nuzzled his torso affectionately. Spaghetti sauce stained the expensive fabric but he didn't take any notice.

"You know…you never did tell me what kind of…what species Muu is."

"You can't use that kind of word to address Muu-chan like that! Love knows no boundaries!" Sugino gasped in reproach. Bristling, he brushed his waist length black hair over his shoulder and placed his hand on his hip, looking sternly at his handsome friend.

"Look, I have to go. It was nice having lunch with you."

"Haruka! We didn't even have lunch yet! You didn't even drink your coffee! Harukaaaaaaa."

Haruka turned and gave him a steady look of undisguised displeasure.

"One more thing. Quit putting me in your stupid novels, it's annoying."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Ah…stupid Youko. Why did she have to leave this at home?" Kantarou complained as he joined the mass crossing the intersection. He pulled out the rigid plastic ID card that all employees at Youko's work place required to gain access to the storage room. In her haste to arrive on time, she had left it on the counter wedged under a cup of cold tea. Kantarou decided that mess he had stirred up to find it was fit punishment for Youko's forgetfulness. He quickened up his pace as he noticed he was lagging slightly behind the other pedestrians.

A delivery truck approached at a steady speed as Kantarou neared the other side of the street. The moment he stepped onto the sidewalk, a man beside him had stepped off to cross the road. The crossing light turned red before Kantarou realized that something was off.

"Hey, you!"

There was no time for any more words. With strength and a reflex he knew he doesn't have, he snagged the stranger by the back of his tweed coat and pulled him onto the sidewalk as the truck hurtled past, honking its horn furiously.

They fell into a crumpled heap on the frosted cement, a crowd of nosy people gathering to see what was going on. Adrenaline pumped through Kantarou's veins as he breathed heavily to calm down.

"Are you blind or something?! The light already turned red, you-" Kantarou stopped in mid-sentence, the rest of his words dying in his throat.

It couldn't be.

"Look, I'm grateful that you saved my life but can you get off of me?" the man said, rubbing the back of his head where it had banged against the ground.

The hair, the face, the voice. It was all there.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"H-Haruka?"

The man gave him a funny look.

"Do I know you?"

Fearing this might all be an illusion, Kantarou latched onto the man's lapel and held him in place.

"Haruka."

"Y-yes, that's my name. But how do you know it? And really now, get off of me."

"I…I…"

Haruka continued to stare at the other man in confusion. The muttering from the crowd was already getting on his nerves. He knew he shouldn't have agreed to any outing with that sorry excuse for a friend.

Tears of an indefinable emotion rolled down Kantarou's pale cheeks as he said, flushed and smiling,

"I've finally found you, Haruka."

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END

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_A/Ns_: Um…yeah, that's it. I have no intention of actually writing this as a full-blown story but I wanted to get this out and I thought I would share it. If it inspires you, please go ahead and continue it if you will.

**Thank you for reading!**


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